


falling in style

by greenconverses



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, pre-httyd 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenconverses/pseuds/greenconverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After one too many spills off Toothless, Astrid thinks it's time for Hiccup to replace his old harness with something much more substantial. </p>
<p>Hiccup, of course, goes in the opposite direction with her suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling in style

**Author's Note:**

> My thoughts on the origin of the flight suit. I'm amused by how Hiccup's always so delighted when one of his new inventions or flying stunts finally _works_ right. I imagine he spends quite a bit of time eating dirt from numerous crash landings, much to Toothless's general annoyance.

“Hiccup, I can’t believe you’re still wearing  _this_.”

There are multiple layers of exasperation in Astrid’s tone as she plucks one of the straps of his harness between her fingers and lets it snap back sharply on to his shoulder, right over the spot of one of his old, but still painful, bruises.

“Hey, hey,  _careful_ ,” he hisses, trying his best not to wince when his muscles ache as he lowers himself to the bench in the academy arena. Something must show on his face, however, because Astrid’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “You’re going to stretch it out if you keep doing that!”

“Good,” she replies, blue eyes raking over him carefully. “Maybe you’ll make yourself something to wear that will actually  _protect_  you when you fall off that dragon of yours then.”

Hiccup scoffs, mildly insulted. “Me?  _Fall_? Are you kidding? We’re not  _falling_ , are we bud? We’re… we’re practicing in-air, rider and dragon separation recovery strategies! Falling.  _Ha_. That’s a good one.”

He shoots a hopeful glance at Toothless, fully expecting the dragon to back him up with an earnest warble. Astrid always tends to get tetchy when the two of them come back from a solo flight with significant bruises and scrapes, and it’s in both their best interests to placate her as soon as possible.

But Toothless only surfaces long enough from his basket of fish to snort and roll his eyes at his rider, as if to say,  _You’re deluding yourself, Hiccup_.  _That was_ definitely  _falling we did today_.

Traitor.

“Thanks for the support, bud. Always great to know I can rely on you in the clutch,” Hiccup grumbles sarcastically, and the dragon chuffs a laugh before diving back into his meal.

“He knows better than to lie for you,” Astrid says smugly, reaching for his chin and examining the scrapes on his face. “Especially not when you look like you got into a fight with a cliff and lost.  _Spectacularly_.”

Hiccup glances down at himself and, yes, all right, his clothes had come out a little worse for the wear this time. His tunic is shredded under the his harness, scratches and welts visible easily visible, and parts of the green wool stained with splashes of blood. There are holes in the knees of his pants, and a chunk of them had been ripped clear away by his right foot. His prosthetic leg had been knocked a little off kilter with the landing, so he’ll have to adjust that in the forge later, though metal work is the last thing he wants to do when his body aches as much as it does.

But he hadn’t come home with any broken bones, burns, additional missing limbs, or a concussion this time, so he’ll consider it a personal victory. A  _very_  small one, but a victory all the same.

“It wasn’t a cliff. It was the tree  _on_  the cliff,” he replies. “Very important — ow! — difference.”

Astrid shakes her head, letting go of his face, and straightens. “Well, that explains the leaves in your hair… Anyway, I’ll be right back with the healer’s kit. Those cuts need tending to, so don’t go anywhere.”

Hiccup nods, hastily brushing a hand through his hair and plucking all the twigs from it, a small flush rising on his cheeks. While Hiccup appreciates Astrid’s own brand of peevish concern, he really could do without the lectures and general chastising that come with it. He wrote the book on dragon riding and training. He’s the last person who needs safety lessons, especially not when half of Berk’s dragon riding team enjoys lighting themselves (and the village) on fire just for the fun of it.

Though… she does have a point about his harness, Hiccup concedes, glancing at his chest again. He’d thought about replacing it with something different when he went through his growth spurt last year. He’d needed to build a new one anyway, so why not try a few different designs out? None of them had worked out — too stiff, too bulky, not streamlined enough for flight — and there were other projects that needed his attention, so he’d reverted back to the old standard and put a redesign off in the back of his mind.

Maybe now’s the time to start thinking about it again.

Astrid returns while he’s lost in thought, setting the basket of healer’s supplies and a bowl of water on the ground. She sits beside him, drawing his attention to her once more.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been coming back more banged up since you installed that stabilizer on Toothless’s tail,” Astrid says, gesturing for him to take off his harness. “You need to stop taking such stupid risks up there.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Hiccup says defensively, unbuckling the harness and shrugging it off. He reaches for the edge of his tunic, knowing she’ll want that to come off next so she can bandage him up properly. “Besides, it’s a bit high and mighty of you to call me out for taking risks when I caught you doing  _backflips_  off Stormfly last week, don’t you think?”

He tugs his tunic over his head, shoulder and back muscles stiff and achey, and tosses it on the ground next to his harness. Color immediately rises in Astrid’s cheeks and Hiccup tells himself that her eyes are only lingering so long over his chest and the muscles of his stomach because she’s assessing his injuries, not because she’s admiring the lean lines his body. It’s best to avoid those kinds of thoughts for now. If he’s too sore to lift a hammer, he’s definitely too sore to make out with Astrid, no matter what certain, insistent parts of his body say otherwise.

He clears his throat when she doesn’t look away after a few moments and Astrid starts, caught in the act. She immediately dives into the kit, an embarrassed flush crawling up her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. Hiccup grins, just a little bit pleased with himself. Usually Astrid’s the one who flusters  _him_ , not the other way around.

“That’s different, Hiccup,” Astrid says primly, pulling out a length of cloth and dipping the edge in bowl of water. “And you know it.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to say something like that without explaining yourself,” Hiccup says. His side flairs with pain as Astrid begins to dab at his scrape, cleaning the wound out, and his smile slips into a grimace. “How are we different? Why is it okay for you to do backflips, but I can’t do dives with Toothless? It’s not because of this, is it?”

He gestures at his prosthetic leg, wagging it at her mockingly, and Astrid glares up at him from under the fringe of her bangs, clearly insulted that he thought she’d use his disability against him. Her next pass at his scrape is not as gentle as the first.

“It’s not because of your leg, dummy,” she says, putting the cloth aside as she reaches for bandages. “I take calculated risks.  _You’re_  an unrepentant daredevil whose idea of fun is to get out of your saddle and see how close you can get to the ground before Toothless gets in between you and imminent  _death_.  _That’s_  the difference.”

Toothless, who has apparently decided to throw his rider under a rampaging herd of sheep as often as possible today, warbles that high note of agreement Hiccup had been looking for earlier in their conversation.  _Double_  traitor.

Hiccup sighs, scratching the back of his neck in defeat. Although Astrid tends to be significantly  _less_ calculated when her pride is at stake or her anger is stoked, her assessment of him is unflinchingly accurate, especially the way he’s been in recent weeks. He and Toothless are always putting their limits to the test and, sometimes, Hiccup lets the adrenaline get the best of him while they’re flying. Odin only knows how many times Toothless has smacked him with one of his ear plates after a barely performing a particularly difficult maneuver that he was only  _slightly_  sure would work.

“Well, when you put it  _that_  way…”

Astrid smirks a little at the reluctant tone in his voice, knowing she’s won him over, and presses the bandage to his skin. “And really, I’m not all that bothered that you do it, mostly because I trust Toothless to save you from your more boneheaded ideas — ”

“Hey now.”

“ — I just wish you had something to protect you besides those flimsy shoulder pads if you two get separated,” she continues, smoothing the bandage down and shifting closer to him. There’s a slight sting to her touch, but the pleasurable sensation of her calloused fingers brushing against Hiccup’s bare skin easily overwhelms it. He breathes in deeply, taking in her scent, and hopes she doesn’t notice the goosebumps rising on his arms. It’s crazy how little it takes for him to get caught up in her.

“Mhmm,” Hiccup says, closing his eyes, distracted by her proximity and her hands. Surely her fingers don’t need to be trailing down his stomach like that, stirring frisson deep in his bones. He’s not complaining  _at all_ , but most of his scrapes are on his chest and if her fingers get any closer to the hollows of his hips… 

"I mean, it’s not like  _you_  have a set of wings to rely on, after all.”

Hiccup’s eyes snap open, a whole different sort of thrill shooting down his spine like a lightning strike. 

“Wait, what did you say?”

Astrid glances up at him, surprised by the sudden sharpness in his voice. “What? Just now?” Hiccup nods eagerly, and her brow furrows. “That you don’t have wings? I thought that would be pretty obvious… Hiccup, what are you doing?”

Her hands fall from his sides as Hiccup stands abruptly, forgetting completely about his bruised and broken body as Astrid’s words take root in his mind. An idea — a fantastic, amazing, utterly  _ridiculous_ idea — has already started to come together, the pieces and early logistics already taking shape, oh, he needs to get his notebook and get to the forge  _right now_. This can’t wait. Why hadn’t he thought of this  _ages_  ago?

“You’re a  _genius_ , Astrid,” Hiccup says, ducking to kiss her on the forehead. She blinks at him as he snatches up his tunic and pulls it on, struggling to get it over his head in haste. “I’ll see you later — I gotta go! Thank you!”

He barely notices Toothless and Astrid exchanging confused looks as he stumbles toward the exit of the academy, excitement buzzing in his veins.

Astrid’s right; he  _doesn’t_  have his own set of wings.

But he will soon. He can guarantee it.

 

 

 

  
  


(“ _This_ ,” Astrid hisses three weeks later, when she’s fishing him out of the pine tree he’d spent the last two hours hanging upside down in, dressed in the first prototype of his winged armor he’d been all too eager to show off, “is  _not_  what I had in mind when I told you to make a new harness, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock!”

Toothless (triple traitor!) snorts with a belly full of laughter from the ground below, and Hiccup begrudgingly concedes that his guarantees still need a little work.)


End file.
